


The Higher Power

by adlerty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adlock Gift Exchange, F/M, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Secret Santa, also shook john is shook, proud babies, who want to solve crimes together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9035075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adlerty/pseuds/adlerty
Summary: Nobody expected her to come back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> What (I think) it would happen if Irene came back to London after the airport scene.

“Do you know the big problem with a disguise?”

She couldn’t help but smirk at the question. He was standing by the window, looking through the steamed up glass the snow slowly falling and covering the street. He had barely turned his head towards her as she had entered the flat.

“It is always a self portrait, isn’t it?”

This time Irene laughed, casually walking towards him, the click of her heels echoing in the room. She took her gloves off and threw them over his armchair. She stood by his side and looked through the window too, trying to deduce what was catching his attention since he had already returned his gaze to the street, somewhat ignoring her.

“And what is it? What am I hiding?” she anything but purred, looking up to his face now.

Sherlock stared back at her, frowning. He ran his eyes over her entire face. It was so hard to deduce her... With her, he had learnt to compare. He would memorize any change on her ‒her features, her manners, the tone of her voice‒, and he would just correlate it to what he thought it was the usual cause to those ‘results’ from what he used to deduce of the people around him. Yet, from _The Woman_ , he didn’t even know what to infer.

Her hair was short now, barely touching her shoulders, and had more of a red undertone, looking clearer than it used to be. _Undercover? New start?_ She barely had make-up on, making the small creases around her eyes and lips a little bit evident. _Lack of sleep, compulsive smoking._ Her clothes were in style, just as elegant as he was used to seeing her; he wouldn’t have expected less from her. But here was something, a halo on her eyes... _Distress?_

She raised an eyebrow, looking rather amused by his intent gaze, the way he was probably trying to deduce her. He shook his head slightly, gently pushing her away as he walked towards the kitchen.

“You’re _scared_ ”, Sherlock stated.

A cynical laughter resounded in the room. Irene began to take her faux fur coat and threw it onto his chair. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Where do you get that from?”

“You came,” he responded, facing her now, leaning on the kitchen table. He mimicked her, crossing his arms as well. “After... _That_.”

He watched her approaching him, her hips swaying with every step she took, distracting him. He quickly returned his eyes to her face. She looked angered.

“I’m not a damsel in distress,” she spat.

“Then what are you doing in here?” she heard him say immediately, his tone lower than usual, almost concerned, she would say.

Irene merely smiled, getting closer to the detective. She placed her hand over his chest. “I’m just paying you a visit.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

They remained like that, silent, her hand caressing him over his white shirt, his eyes fixed on hers. Her scent was striking; it had filled the entire room. He kept both his hands on his pockets: one of them kept hold of his lighter, the other one played nervously with a cigarette. He breathed the scent in. That perfume... He could recognize it in any part of the world. Touches of sandal and exotic fruits caressed his nostrils, and suddenly he was lost in an ocean of memories from which he couldn’t –or just didn’t want to– emerge.

He felt obliged to light the cigarette. She watched him getting a long, almost anxious puff. She took it from his hand and placed it elegantly between her red lips.

“What are you doing here, _Woman_?” Sherlock asked again, frowning as he observed the smoke leaving her beautiful mouth. “You’re risking everything I did to save you-“

“I don’t owe you anything, Sherlock.”

He breathed in deeply and walked away from her. He led his way towards the mantelpiece and took a desiccated rose –unconsciously kept in the same place she had left the small box with her camera phone a few years ago. She smirked, taking a drag and putting the cigarette off on the kitchen table.

“I’m here to help,” she said, looking straight into his eyes. She put a finger up when he tried to talk back. He blinked rapidly. “I’m here to help because I can do it. I still owe you _nothing_.”

“Quite pragmatic of you.”

“Well, thank you.”

The arrogant couple stood there, staring at each other, Sherlock fidgeting with the rose and Irene tugging at her leather skirt.

“What if I don’t need _your_ help?” he finally spoke, breaking the silence.

“Are you too proud to accept that you need _me_?” replied The Woman, pointing sardonically the rose in his hand. “We’ve already had this conversation when I showed up in Podgorica after you ‘died’. I recall we ended up the discussion on a bed.”

“What _the actual heck_...?!”

They both snapped their heads towards the door, where John stood, batting his eyes, still sceptical about the figure of _that_ Woman being real.

“I love how he keeps catching us in ‘awkward’ positions,” she murmured towards Sherlock. Then she returned her eyes towards the doctor. “Nice to see you too, Watson.”

Sherlock laughed lowly as he left the rose back over the mantelpiece. He didn’t sigh, he didn’t get angry. He merely accepted that this, The Woman being discovered, was something it would happen sooner or later.

“How... Just- How do people around me _not_ die? _How_?!” yelled John. “And what’s that about you two and a bed-“

“Is he always that noisy?” Irene asked Sherlock, visibly amused about the situation.

“Only from Monday through Friday,” replied the detective, ignoring the angry look from his friend. “Also at weekends.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift for Tumblr user @agents-of-sherlock. Hope you enjoyed this! It's been so much fun to write this.
> 
> Merry Christmas! <3


End file.
